


push & pull.

by hvrts



Series: say anything. [2]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Feelings, Light Angst, M/M, they're both equally bad at feelings tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-19 02:33:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22570528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hvrts/pseuds/hvrts
Summary: hongjoong can never stay away from seonghwa for very long.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Series: say anything. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624024
Comments: 4
Kudos: 82





	push & pull.

**Author's Note:**

> seongjoong are so soft. please sedate me.
> 
> this is a continuation of lights out. but it can be read as a standalone, too :)

the bed is uncharacteristically cold when hongjoong wakes up.

it's not something he's used to. that much is certain. more often than not, there _is_ a warm sensation, another restful body beside his, wedged between the wall and hongjoong's much smaller frame.

and it's instinctive, now, how he sits up a little too fast, squinting through the darkness, at the bed on the other end of the room, as he–

 _panics_.

he panics, even when his tired eyes find seonghwa and the subtle morning light that nestles against his face. his eyes remain tightly shut, breaths barely noticeable besides the subtle motion of seonghwa's shoulders rising and falling with each exhale.

and he continues to panic. because _this_ is it. it's all about the unrequited for them, the silent moments, the parts that are buried beneath the dark, barely seen by either of them in the first place. he panics, because he _feels_ it, seeping through his skin, coursing through his veins, and it's scares him more than he'd like to admit.

what he _can_ admit, though? something about this, the silent confessions and his own clear cut gaze, makes him _forget_. he forgets, and it shakes him, because seonghwa is _pretty_ and _warm_ and hongjoong finds himself _thinking–_

maybe this was a mistake.

sometimes? it feels like they live too close together.

“that's because we _are_ so close together,” seonghwa says. in between a bite of toast, and with no bags under his eyes. _he looks unreal_ , hongjoong thinks. then draws his gaze away, and pretends to focus on his cup of coffee instead. because he can only do so much staring before it gets _weird_.

“i didn't mean it like that,” he mumbles. wooyoung snorts. he catches the way yunho rolls his eyes – at this, at them. hongjoong prefers not to think about it.

“so,” san says, making the point of drawing the word right out. “you're saying we spend _too_ much time together, now? isn't that what you wanted?”

hongjoong blinks. he wants to say the words catch him off guard. they're not venomous at all, only a little doubtful. still. _a leader is a leader_ , he reminds himself, goes to shift his shoulders because he can at least say _this_.

“not what i meant,” he says. at breakfast of all times. usually, _usually_ , there's been seonghwa right next to him, with a soothing hand at his shoulder. and to not have _that_ , when he really does need it– feels more problematic than it should.

“hyung, you're being weird,” says mingi. and then jongho nudges him. because he can't say that. not when hongjoong is trying to be serious at least.

“i'm _not_.” it's too early for this, he decides. “fine. doesn't matter.”

and that's all.

hongjoong doesn't mean to project so much. but, it's quite difficult not to, when he's surrounded by people just like him, when he's forced to watch the way the other members lean into to each other, or share a blanket, and hongjoong feels something in his chest twitch because _this isn't how it's supposed to feel_.

because he thinks. a lot. he thinks about _them_ , about the tugs at the sleeve, the lingering touches, listening to each other's heartbeats in the dead of night. it's only been a week since then, but time is unforgiving, and hongjoong's skin aches with pining that can't be ignored.

hongjoong's coffee is lukewarm when he sips it. seonghwa doesn't move. somehow, it feels right.

“you're going to hurt yourself with all that thinking, hyung,” yeosang says, rather pointedly. hongjoong wouldn't usually let _that_ slide, either, but it's morning, and those words ring with truth that don't go unnoticed.

nerves pull at his stomach. his eyes land on where seonghwa sits, forearms folded at the kitchen island. he hardly look fatigued, but his brows knit together. in thought, maybe. hopefully. hongjoong tries not to worry, but seonghwa is just as much of an overthinker as he is. possibly worse.

he hates this.

“are we fighting?”

hongjoong blinks. almost jumps. the rather sudden appearance of seonghwa standing behind him in the bathroom mirror is enough to convince him that he's lacking more sleep than humanly possible. but, seonghwa's voice is soft, drowsy as he blinks through the dark and meets hongjoong's tired gaze.

and it startles him. because seonghwa is _there_ , leaning against the doorframe. his skin looks soft, hair ruffled ever so slightly. the dark blue t-shirt he's wearing shifts a little, revealing the pale skin of his collarbone. hongjoong feels himself blink, _fast_ , gathering the rampant thoughts that materialise in his mind.

“what?”

seonghwa blinks. then yawns. he covers his mouth and his shirt rides up. hongjoong pretends not to see it.

“you've been avoiding me,” seonghwa says. simply, without any kind of malice. “and i've been avoiding you.”

“that doesn't mean we're fighting.”

hongjoong opens the tap. lets the water heat up before he runs his hands underneath. the heat hits his otherwise dry skin, coating him a brief wave of warmth.

seonghwa yawns again. more audible this time.

“we've fought before,” seonghwa continues.

“i know.”

“but not like this.” he pauses. maybe because hongjoong is drying his hands in the air and looks a little ridiculous. maybe because he has to yawn _again_ , because seonghwa and sudden wake-up calls are two things that have never meshed well together.

or, maybe, it's because he's thinking. of all those other times, where it's been like this, where words between them are minimal and distance feels like a unit of time.

it's not something that lasts. and that's hongjoong's fault. because hongjoong is always first, always the one who crawls into seonghwa's bed and curls up his legs. and then seonghwa makes his coffee the next morning, and things are back to being as normal as they can be.

seonghwa sighs. he looks exhausted, and it _hurts_.

they stare at each other. because it's all they know, right now. they've been doing this for years, they've been in _this_ place for years, where seonghwa is hopelessly in love, and hongjoong doesn't know how to deal with it. _push and pull_ , hongjoong thinks. except, they both pull away, like a rubber band that could snap at any moment.

“you confessed,” hongjoong _says_. eventually. when he's gathered what little he has left of his crumbling resolve. he doesn't mean to hold seonghwa's gaze through the mirror, but he _does_.

seonghwa shifts.

“i've confessed before, though,” his voice is low. honest. because it _is_ honest. seonghwa doesn't pin his words down with his own hands the way hongjoong does. seonghwa confesses when he wants to, never expecting any kind of response. it's how he's always been.

“i know,” hongjoong sighs. runs a damp hand through his hair, too. this feels selfish. “but that was different.”

“because i cried?”

 _yes_ , hongjoong thinks. only because it's what he thought back then, a little over a week ago, when seonghwa said _i'm in love with you_ , and hongjoong felt his own lungs collapse at the sight.

“i– yes?” he blinks. “i don't actually _know_.”

seonghwa shrugs.

“you don't need to know.”

guilt presses into hongjoong's chest at that. for waking seonghwa up in the first place, despite the current circumstances, for being so _messy_ , so complicated, for not knowing when he really should.

"you should go to bed,” hongjoong says. because that's easier.

seonghwa's smile is lopsided, but notable. his voice doesn't shake at all.

“not until you do.”

the tiles are cold against his feet as trudges to where seonghwa stands, makes the point of not standing too close because they're not quite _there_ yet.

this isn't a fight. hongjoong knows that. it's not a fight, because there's no enemy. not here. feelings are feelings are feelings, and they will continue to exist, no matter how many times he tries to draw himself away.

hongjoong curls his fingers around seonghwa's. his are still damp, but seonghwa doesn't seem to mind. he smiles a little, blinks because hongjoong is always the first one. it's how they work. seonghwa confesses, and hongjoong brings himself close. maybe it is push and pull, after all.

“you think too much,” seonghwa muses. his skin looks soft, black hair falling over his bare face. this feels romantic.

“i know,” hongjoong says. even though he doesn't. not because he doesn't try, but because there's too _much_ to think about, too much to _know_.

and hongjoong _hates_ not knowing.

but, what he does know is that seonghwa is there. and seonghwa is just as scared as he is. maybe even more. and seonghwa's fingers are intertwined with his, giving them a light shake that puts his heart at ease.

they _are_ close together, even like this, and for hongjoong–

it's always been _a lot_.

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/raventiques)


End file.
